Loneliness in the Valley Below
by Tony Floyd
Summary: A young wanderer recalls a violent occurance in his past life.


**Loneliness in the Valley Below**

By Tony Floyd

He is alone. He looks into the valley and the wind blows black hair over his eyes and he glances at a hawk soaring overhead and then returns his gaze to the valley below. The ascending sun is reaching its climax and the weeds which sprout from the cinnamon-colored earth are dancing and the boy is lost in his thoughts.

He thinks of the world as it used to be, before he was alone. He thinks of the house he lived in and the woman who owned the house and how she loved him and took care of him. He thinks of how he misses her. He watches the valley. Nothing save for the weeds move.

He thinks of the school he went to and how he hated it and how he disappointed the woman who took care of him. He thinks of the girls he wanted to make love to and the girls he really loved and how those girls made him hurt inside; some on purpose and some without knowing, as they nuzzled and kissed the other boys who had bigger stomachs and smoother faces and weren't skinny and dark like he was. He thinks of the laughter and the immaturity and the hate that stabbed in his chest.

He thinks that maybe he is happy that what happened happened. He knows that most if not all of them are dead or locked in the vault and that they can't hurt him anymore and that in these past years he's shown more courage than any single one of them ever did, or ever could. He was used to being outcast, on his own. He had decided long ago that being accepted by people with hearts as black and minds as simple and faces as fake as theirs was hardly worth the struggle. He knew what they all thought of him.

He's a misogynist.

A cynic.

A pessimist.

A sociopath.

He remembered how he would smile as the girls conjured these magnificent terms and how the guys they were dating would just say: "Yeah," folding their arms with contempt. And even though he would shut the nonsense from his ears and walk away laughing to himself his heart would cry inside that anyone could think of him that way and how far out of reach everyone was for him. Some he hated everything about and couldn't have cared less but others stung deep because even though he knew he was smarter than they were, he sensed that they were good-souled people and he pitied them for following the crowd.

He thinks of the fights he got into with people that drove him too far. He remembers how a punk that he didn't even know asked him a strange question.

"You want to get in her ass don't you?" He says it in a strange voice and at first the boy doesn't even know if he is the one being spoken to. He turns his head and sees the punk nodding so he stops and turns to him.

"Are...you talking to me?"

"Yeah, I guess that's a rare occurrence."

The boy says nothing. He waits.

"Well...what did you say?"

The punk has clearly been waiting for this and he turns to the girl beside him and she is one of the few whose name the boy actually knows: Mellisa Crowe.

"You want to get in her ass, don't you?"

He takes Mellisa and spanks her a little. She spins instantly, face flushed in embarrassment and disgust.

"Josh, what the hell!?"

He smiles. "Come on, baby, I was just messing around..."

"Piss off, Josh. Don't do it again."

She looks at the boy apologetically and in embarrassment before turning back to her friends and resuming a conversation and the boy is surprised and unsure what to do because the punk is still looking at him smugly and then he spanks her ass again so hard that her blonde hair jumps a little on her shoulders and her mouth drops open and she turns to his smiling, giddy face and slaps it.

"WHAT THE HELL, JOSH!"

"Come on for chrissakes! I was kidding!"

"Uh, NOT FUNNY!"

The boy's hands have clenched into fists and anger is pumping through him and it felt like his eyes were bulging and his skin was hot and his teeth were pressing together so hard that it felt like they could crack.

"Don't touch her again." the boy says calmly.

"Why, you figure her ass belongs to you?"

"What?"

"I've seen you stare at her ass," the punk said. "It's nice and tight isn't it."

Mellisa looks at the punk in shock and anger and she glances at the boy in confusion and worry.

"That isn't true." says the boy.

"I bet you wish you could grab it like I've been doing."

The punk is about to grab her again and the boy lunges at him and delivers a punch so hard and so swift that two of the punks teeth can be seen in the gout of blood that flies from his mouth and lands in a messy splatter on the yellow lockers behind them, dripping down to the floor in neat, round little dots. The boy is pinning him to the ground now and he can hear fast approaching feet on tile behind him as he punches again.

An hour or two have passed and he looks up at the sky and thanks god that he doesn't have to deal with that world anymore. He didn't want to hurt any of them and he was sorry that he did, but now he couldn't ever hurt them and they couldn't ever hurt him. It is best this way. He stands.

For a minute he thinks he hears something in the bush beside him and he turns to see a battered human body emerging from it. He grips the pistol in his pocket impulsively and examines the figure. Long blonde hair has been streaked with oil and blood and it covers any possibility of a face because it's eyes are downcast but he looks about the body's frame and it is clearly a well built young woman. The body almost seems familiar but he never had a woman so that makes no sense. It is only when she looks up that he sees.

"Can you help me.......

..Oh god...

...Dean?"

He turns away from the vision. He must be hungry. He needs to stop getting lost in his thoughts like this. There should be some deer in this valley soon. There always is. He thinks he hears her say his name again and whimper but he knows it is just his imagination.

He is alone. He watches the valley. Nothing save for the weeds move.


End file.
